Descent of Intelligence
by gregories
Summary: A backstory you never expected.
1. Chapter 1

Earth was peaceful. Earth was everything I knew, even though I knew there was so much more out there. Most importantly, Earth was home.

I vaguely remember countryside as a younger child; sprawling hills and a lush green carpet of grass fading back to a sharp contrast of beautiful blue sky cloaking the far reaches of space like a velveteen blanket. Soft clouds littered its surface, strewn everywhere like remnants of a forgotten play fight. It was peace and discord in one package. I remember asking if God used to have pillow fights with his angels. My mother said the two words every five-year-old wants to hear: "Of course."

But the green grass didn't last. I don't remember exactly when the hills got swallowed up by the steel and cement. I just remember looking down from our room on the eight floor of our tower block and noticing they were gone. My eyes flew upward and a relieved sigh heaved my chest. At least the heavens were still visible.

I continued to gaze out my window for hours after Mother had put me to bed, a first for me. I was intrigued, confused, and saddened to realize the hills were gone. Relief had lulled me into complacence, but as I watched from the safety of my bed sheets my spark of intrigue grew. The sun had begun to fall behind the skyscrapers, and it was as thought it were taking the sky with it. The farther the sun's glow retreated behind the steel structures, I came to realize the sky was descending with it. Maybe it had caught on a sun's corner or something. I squinted as I zoned in on what remained of the ball of light, but pain welled up behind my eyes until I was forced to look away. I had to make due with assumptions. The sun, for all intensive purposes, must've had at least one sharp angle, like a square or a triangle, that caught on a thread of the sky, forcing it to trail down in the evening and back up again with every day anew.

What shook me most about this revelation was what the sky revealed when it fell. Space. Mother had read countless bedtime stories to me depicting the mysterious frontier, and it matched the children's books description perfectly: the sprinkling of stars stretched from one edge of the black void to the other, a bunch of little dots shimmering in my direction, winking at me. I still remember smiling up at them. As small and as far away as they were, they still knew I was here.

Running to Mother's room, not caring about the reprieval I would receive for disobeying curfew, I remember making her promise to take me there before that got swallowed up like its spiky green counterpart. After a stern talking to mother assured me not only that I could go to space one day if I so chose, but that the land wasn't gone forever. The confusion on my face served reason enough for her to continue. I'll never forget her words.

"You only have to look underneath the buildings. Dig up enough layers of brick and stone and eventually you'll see a blade of hidden grass."

* * *

In school, I was a question-asker. There were a lot of children in my class, and each one had their own role. We had criers and screamers, listeners, bullies, gapers, laughers and fallers. Me, I asked questions. To be honest, I think the school had made a mistake trying to make a room full of such diverse personalities pay attention to one adult. The poor woman should have at least had a class with one kind of kid so she could listen or play or run after them all collectively instead of trying to do everything at once. They definitely should have had a question-asking class. I needed my own teacher for all the questions I had, and the one I did kept deflecting the ones I hurled her way towards my mother. She in turn told me to take it back to the teacher.

"She gets paid to teach you kids. I wish she'd start acting like it," she would mumble into her steaming after-dinner mug. So I asked why I had to ask them both, and I never got an answer to either.

The only days I never asked questions were when they took us to different cities. "Field trip" the permission slip would say, though not once did we ever come across a field. I turned into a listener on those days.

I quickly learned that Earth was huge. Looking down at our city from the hoverbus was better than seeing it from my window back home. There were cities within cities, roads bending and curving their way to the edge of where the enveloping blue of the sky hid their ends. I did ask why there were roads when people could just fly to another city instead, and that time I did get an answer: some people walked places, from city to city, because they couldn't afford to fly. Earth was supposed to be able to be seen by everyone, and it wasn't fair to the people who couldn't fly to not be allowed to go other places. When I asked why they couldn't afford it, though, my teacher didn't "care to elaborate finances to a child." So, I turned to my mother for answers. It seemed important to know.

"Why can't some people afford to fly?" I asked, depositing my knapsack from its sling over my shoulder. Mother never even had time to ask how Saratoga was.

In response, her mouth shrunk the way it did when she was uncomfortable, but she answered nonetheless. "Because some people are less fortunate than we are."

"Why?"

"Caleb," Mother sighed, turning to face me. There was a sharpness in her voice that immediately made me regret asking. "Have you asked any of the other children why they can't afford to fly?"

"No," I hasted to explain. "I saw the roads today, the ones that went to other cities like ours. And I asked our teacher why they were there and she 'didn't care to elaborate.'"

My mother laughed. I guess it wasn't so bad that I asked. I relaxed immediately to the tinkle of her voice. "Oh, she did? Ah. Well then, come here," she said as she scooped me up into her lap. Silently I made a memo to try and be a listener as she explained. "Grown ups have to have jobs in order to make money. You know how you need money to buy something when the ice cream cart comes around?"

"'Two credits per pop,'" I replied promptly, reciting the VI's chime.

"Which is highway robbery," Momma scathed. "I charge it to my omni-tool because I need to pay for it before you can have it. It's the same way with bills, cars, toys, chartering a flight to a different city. Everything costs money."

"What if you don't have any money?"

"What happens when I don't buy you a pop?" she pressed.

"I ask for something else."

"You can't have it," she chastised with a small smirk. "If you don't pay for something, you can't have or use it. And if you don't have a job, you can't make any money."

"So people who don't have jobs don't have any money?"

"Right."

"But I have you," I protested, confusion making me forget to listen.

"Not everyone has a mom to buy things for them. When you get older, you're going to have a job just like I do now, and you'll be able to buy things for yourself."

I grew quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. "Mom?"

"Hm?"

"Can we afford to fly?"

Thin arms tightened around me, and I could smell the sweetness of her last cup of tea on her breath as she exhaled thoughtfully. "Don't worry about money, Caleb. You're too young. We can afford to fly if we need to."

"To other cities?"

Mother nodded. "Flying in the same city costs a lot less money than flying around the whole world, which is why I fly to work."

"How many credits would a flight to space cost?"

"Enough." Her mouth shrunk again. "Too much just to visit."

"What if we want to stay?"

"Don't you like it here?"

My head bobbed eagerly. "But one day I want to see more than just Earth."

Burying her mouth in my mouse-brown hair, she lightly kissed my scalp. "If that's what you want Caleb, it'll happen. Want something bad enough, and it's bound to come true."

* * *

The next day at school I wasn't my usual self. I was a listener again. I watched everyone, even the teacher. "Yes, she has a job," Mother had explained, which was watching our class. _Then she can afford to fly,_ I silently decided on. Watching us must have been important enough to earn some real credits. If it wasn't, I pitied the woman for being undercompensated and run ragged each day.

Figuring out the other children took more thought, but all I had to do was look. A few of the girls wore brightly colored dresses with matching shoes and ribbons in their silky smooth hair, with a handful of boys to match in starchy trousers and bright blue jeans. They never came to school with a smudge on their face or a spot on their clothes that didn't belong. Other children had scuffed up, dingy shoes and complimenting messes on their clothes that looked like they'd been there a few days too long. Their hair wasn't as kempt either, often flyaway and scraggly.

Testing the theory forming in my head, I grabbed a chunk of my hair. It felt clean and in place. Looking down my front, I had my blue sweater on today with a pair of corduroys, both soft to the touch and not a stain in sight. Thinking back on what Mother had said the night before, my eyes swooped over the room once more. So the kids with nice hair and clothes could fly. I assumed that meant the ones who weren't so pleasant to look at were the non-fliers. That didn't seem fair. It didn't seem right that some of us got to go to space and some just... couldn't.

I barely took notice as I felt my lips scrunch involuntarily. I couldn't ask my classmates about how fortunate they were or weren't, or why for that matter. Mother would disapprove, and I'd probably get in trouble for it even if they could tell me. But I had a feeling some of them would never see space the way I knew I one day would. Those little winking lights would be all they ever saw of what lay beneath the blanket of blue without ever getting up close and personal with what lay beyond. I wanted it all. I wanted to be able to wink back.


	2. Chapter 2

Something in our talk must have made Mother restless. The next few weeks were filled with her pulling double shifts and my coming home to a plate in the microwave and a note on our small kitchen table. Things were quiet at home with nothing but vids to keep me company. Instead of jumping at the faint hum of the VI's chant, I'd let the cart pass by our door. It proved to be my first lesson in finances. No Mom, no creds. No creds, no pop.

I began to make a habit of stowing books from class in my satchel before heading back to the empty rooms that awaited me. Though they were outdated and used more for the convenience of children than practicality, I relished at the opportunity to peruse volume after volume and soak up what they had to offer. My first love became the written word and its sultry, musty aroma that filled my senses with each turning of a new page. I leaned towards anything that had to do with conquests on the frontiers of space, anything that took place among those twinkling lights. War stories, alien encounters, tales of exploration millions of light years away, anything I could get my hands on. Each was a decadence and a chance to better prepare myself for what I would face once I braved my first flight out of Dodge.

Aliens were a rare site. The district we lived in was very self-sufficient and similarly contained. We were neighbors with the Alliance's Defense Committee after all, which was dominated by humans. While it was never a public admission, the Alliance didn't like the idea of having anyone who didn't directly serve humanity in its homeland's secure headquarters. I took note of their caution, but never shied away from the opportunity to observe other species on the days our teacher corralled us onto the hoverbus and shipped us to new, exciting places. Before we reached city limits, we'd already passed dozens of neighborhoods filled to the brim with peoples of all different sizes and colors. Remembering Mother's words about cheaper flying rates within the same city, I made a mental note to ask her to take me to some of the neighborhoods one day. If she ever stopped working these long hours.

Kayaderosseras was perhaps the grungiest of our travels. According to our guide, who somehow never mispronounced the name once in her ramblings, the city was the second-oldest state capital in what used to be the United States of America before Earth's nations melded under the uniformity of the Alliance. In 2142, the Capital District opted to have the name changed from Albany to its long-since forgotten title of Kayaderosseras, an Iroquois translation of "Valley of the Crooked Stream" in an attempt to bring back the city's once rugged aesthetic. Seemed pointless to me; I could actually pronounce it's old name, and I didn't see a stream during the whole visit, crooked or otherwise.

Not to mention, there was nothing aesthetic about the place. Just rugged. The streets were filled with much more filth and vagrants than home in New York City. Sticking carefully to predestined walkways and government approved district buildings, we were kept at a safe distance from the more haggard populous. These were definitely non-fliers, with their sticky overcoats and even stickier fingers. As we were boarding a shuttle to a nearby facility, I saw one patron, a man with a distinct look of a lizard about him with large, slanted eyes, wail a young human girl in the chest to make her mind his dictation. The girl wasn't in our class, and was a few years too old to have blended in with us. The paint on her eyes and lips did little to hide the layers of grime clinging to her skin. I hesitated a moment longer than I should, staring agape at what I'd just witnessed. The man, whom I later learned was a 'salarian,' sent a string of profanities shooting at me, my classmates, and our teacher. Quickly, the guide grabbed my arm and ushered me onto the transport, signalling to the pilot VI to speed out of port.

In another section of the tour, our guide had what she referred to as a relatively minor disagreement with a few men with heads that were put together all wrong and waists that were too small for their hulking torso's. They had sharp protrusions that ran along the back of their skulls and came to a severe point, as if bone and cartilage could be windswept by a mighty gale into shape, sharp teeth jutting out where their cheek gaunts should have been. Their bony faces bore the unmistakable trace of intricate tattoo's. Upon closer inspection, they were also missing a couple fingers on each hand, whether on purpose or if it was just their way unbeknownst to me. Our group had stopped at a local chain restaurant to give the adults a chance to feed and water us, along with taking care of the necessary bathroom breaks; our teacher stood watch over our section of tables while the guide opted out of babysitting us long enough to place our collective orders. One by one, tables full of young eyes adverted to the spectacle at the counter. The two men, "filthy turian bastards" my teacher lambasted in their direction, were nudging and prodding her from either side. She tried to escape back to the relative safety of our group, but when the two protestedly made to follow her, their voices resounding in the air with a subtle, agitated hum that seemed to ring in your ears a moment or two after they'd finished speaking, she jabbed her finger in both of their faces with threats dripping from her lips our tiny ears surely weren't meant to hear. Waving her menacing promises away as they stalked off, she fixed the severe bun on her head before making her way back to our tables. She chose mine to lean up against as she took a steadying deep breath, giving an up-close view of her trembling hands.

* * *

Mother was waiting for me when I walked through the door that evening. I rubbed my eyes to make sure it wasn't a hallucination and launched myself across to the room to where she sat.

"How was the trip?"

I rolled my eyes at her in exasperation, another motion she'd unknowingly taught me to mimic, and she erupted with a hearty bout of my favorite sound in the world. Her laughter was exactly what I needed to melt away the unpleasantries of my day. Once her jolly had stilled, I dove into all that had happened in Kayaderosseras, making sure to recite every melancholy detail for dramatic flare. Mother's face quickly fell and a languid frown was etched into her face long before my story had ended.

"Where are these people taking you?" she demanded haughtily. "They threw you into that kind of city, with crooks and scoundrels two feet away?"

"Well -"

"Caleb." Somber slate blue eyes glazed over, shards piercing me into silence. "You should have called me."

"I liked it," I spat hurriedly. Pupils dilated and my reflection shriveled, but I felt a surge of resolve willing me onward as the words stuck thickly in her throat. "I liked seeing new things, new people, new... peoples. But, Mom, are they all like that?"

Teeth engulfed her lower lip as she worried on her response. We were still as statues as I waited for my answer, too frightened I'd said something wrong and too unsure of how to excuse myself politely while under the fix of her gaze. A sheen of liquid had began to pool across my eyes from abstinence of blinking when her brow furrowed. I nearly jumped.

"Put your coat back on," she said simply, heading towards the alcove by the door to pull hers on as well.

"Where are we going?"

A small smile touched her lips as she dipped to deftly tweak the tip of my nose. "You'll see."

* * *

"Thank you for visiting the NYDT." The elevator VI did not chime like the one from the ice cream cart, but was cold and callous. I felt myself shrinking into Mother's side, praying for reprieval from the confined space. "Our visiting hours are from zero eight hundred to twenty hundred hours. The current time is sixteen twenty-three..."

"Is the VI broken?" I blurted out. "It's after five."

My mother got so far as to look down at me and open her mouth when the VI itself responded. "We run by Alliance military time during a standard solar day, Mr. Evans. If you have any concerns regarding my programming please place them with the front desk as you exit the building."

"...okay. Thanks."

"Military time is different than civilian time, which is AM and PM," Mother mumbled down at me. "It just keeps counting the twenty-four hours of the day, then starts all over again at midnight."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "You could ask the VI."

"You can't tell me?"

"Now what fun would that be."

I opened my mouth to retort, but thought better of it. I always hated talking to programs and often made her do it for me. This was probably a lesson she opted I learn myself. "Um, VI?"

"This virtual intelligence model goes by the alias of Abram."

"Sorry, I uh, Abram?"

"Yes, Mr. Evans."

"Why is there military time and civilian time?"

"The 24-hour clock is commonly used in specialist areas, such as military, aviation, navigation, tourism, meteorology, astronomy, computing, logistics, emergency services, and hospitals. In these sects, ambiguities of the 12-hour notation are deemed too inconvenient, cumbersome, or outright dangerous - you have reached your stop, Floor 7: Commerce and Public Works. If I did not fully answer your questions, please put in a formal requisition with the front desk. Enjoy your stay."

"How did it know my name?" I whispered as soon as we were well out of earshot of the treacherous elevator.

"That's its job," she shushed as we strode up to the military-clad woman behind an obscenely large desk. The Alliance certainly liked to keep up appearances. "Nobody gets in or out of here without ID, and yours states your name and, if it were applicable, rank along with age, gender, pertinent medical records, and whatnot."

"Well that's silly. The computer had to introduce itself and he knew about my trip to the dentist last week as soon as I walked in the door."

Mother laughed at my fuming. "I highly doubt they care that the dentist said you need to floss more. They're more interested in allergies or if you're contagiously sick. It's just security protocols. You wouldn't want anyone just waltzing into the apartment without knowing who they were first, would you?"

"We don't have a VI. Or an elevator."

"Oh, stop," she chuckled. "And besides, what if we did? You'd be okay with showing it off then."

My grunt would have to suffice as we approached the woman behind her extravagantly decorated post. Her smile seemed genuine enough. I felt a small layer of ice chip off in lieu of her hearty welcome.

"I have a, well, unusual request. My son and I were wondering if you had a few free moments to discuss foreign relations, specifically those with other species, and maybe encourage his outlook on aliens. He had a... rather unpleasant experience earlier today I wish to rectify."

The woman's eyebrows pulled together and she made to respond, probably with a polite refusal - too much paperwork, she might have said - but she seemed to think better of it. Another smile, this one much more genuine in its relish of some sort of mischief, spread from ear to ear. "I don't ma'am, but I think I know someone who has plenty of free time to take your request."

A few more pleasantries and we were left to wait in a bland, sterile room that couldn't have been much bigger than our quaint kitchen back home. The chair was cold and stiff over the fabric of my jeans, making my butt go numb quickly. I sighed, peering out the window. Mother shot me a look as a silent question made her lips shrivel.

_Yes, Mom. This sucks._

Minutes ticked by until we heard military-issue boots clomping to our door. My spine straightened on impulse, all trace of irritation gone. Sure, I was nervous. But I actually felt my jaw pop and my fingers white-knuckle on the edge of my seat as none other but Commander Shepard swung our door open.

A flag went up in my mind: hero. This man had starred in news vids as far back as I can remember, recent space novels, not to mention word of mouth from both children and adults alike. This man was the sole survivor of a thresher maw attack on Akuze, saved the Council during the Battle of the Citadel, stopped Saren and the geth, and that was only what the memory of an eight-year-old could conjure. His reputation was well-known and "left room for little bullshit" as Mother had once put it during a call to a work associate when the vids first started popping up over two years ago. He had a knack for accomplishing the impossible. And I was about to have a debate about xenophobia with the man who was never wrong. No pressure or anything. I looked to my mother for both guidance and accusation, but her gaze was widely transfixed on the Commander, her lips parted ever so slightly in awe.

"Mrs. Evans." Even a simple nod of his head emanated power, wisdom, competence. I about squawked when the same gesture was then directed at me, the corner of his mouth tugging skyward ever so slightly as he took a seat across from us.

"Commander Shepard!" I should have guessed my mother and I would share a knack for squawking in the presence of such a man. "We - I didn't expect they would send you to speak with my son, sir."

"As it happens, I seem to have a lot of free time on my hands lately." I took note that he didn't look entirely too pleased with this revelation. _Sure,_ I reasoned. _No war hero would want to be caught anywhere but where the action was._ "I hear your son got a bad first impression of aliens this morning. He's really just seeing them for the first time?"

An apologetic smile flickered over her face. "Our district doesn't see much alien traffic. With the Defense Tower around the block, and school only a quick flight away, we don't travel much you see -"

Commander Shepard proved in that moment that he was kind. He held a hand up to halt Mother's nervous ramblings. "I understand. The Alliance hasn't always been at the forefront of alien relations, and some people have a long memory. Do you mind if I ask your son a few questions about the incident?"

"Incidents," I corrected as Mother nodded in acquiescence. I may be eight, but I was bound and determined to prove I was no idiot. "My class was on a field trip to Kayaderosseras," I continued, paying mind to pronounce the name slowly and correctly, "and I saw one man hit a girl, and another two were bothering my teacher during lunch. All three of them were aliens, sir."

The Commander was patient as he waited for me to go on. I was grateful for the chance to collect myself some as I explained what I'd seen in better detail. My relief quickly turned to disappointment when another man stuck his head in the door and called to Shepard. Apparently, the "Batarians were getting restless again."

A sigh heaved his chest much the same way mine would when I was frustrated, and he nodded. The man took his leave and the Commander stood to do the same. "Mrs. Evans, would it be alright if we continued this another time? Tomorrow perhaps?"

"Of course," she replied hurriedly, yanking herself out of her seat and stretching across the steel tabletop to shake his callused hand. Her face suddenly scrunched in worry, as if remembering something unpleasant. "I-I'm sorry, I've just remembered I have to work."

Unpleasant indeed. Her and work lately. What was the deal? "I can take the community shuttle," I threw in, unabated. "A charter flies right to the Defense Tower at four o'clock when I get out of school. I'll be fine," I added in response to Mother's obvious look of reprimand.

"You need money to board the shuttle, young man -"

Commander Shepard wasn't just kind or patient, but he was good at resolving conflict. Another steadying hand in the air rendered our disagreement silent. "I'll send a shuttle personally with me aboard," he opted as he reached for his omni-tool. "I'll see that your son gets here and home safely. Just upload the coordinates of your his school and your home address."

Mother paused a moment longer than she normally would've. I guessed she never considered he would go to such lengths just to talk to some little boy. The Commander was full of surprises. "Thank you, Commander Shepard. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help."

Another near-regal nod and he was staring down at me. His hand extended before him as he spoke, soft interest touching his words. "And I never caught your name."

Holy Toledo.

"Caleb," I murmured, his right mitt dwarfing mine with a firm, brusque shake.

"See you tomorrow, Caleb."

And with that, he was gone. Exiting the building, I held my tongue as the Abram VI called a farewell to us. Not only had Commander Shepard, the Commander Shepard, agreed to see me again tomorrow, he'd asked me my name when he of all people could have easily obtained it from whoever had relayed him the nature of our visit, or better yet ask my mother with me in the room. Even though he was famous for ruining some people's day, he's sure made mine.

* * *

"Mom."

Her shoulders slouched immediately. "Caleb, we just got through the front door. Can the questions wait? Besides, I've got something I think you'll like."

"No." I wouldn't be lured off-topic tonight. I had too much to say. Too much heat under my collar. "You're never home anymore. You've been working crazy hours, and all of a sudden you're home when I get home from school tonight. What's the deal?"

"Caleb!" she bit.

I threw my jacket on the floor and ran to my room, locking the door behind me. I wasn't prone to fits, but Mother didn't yell often either. With a heavy heart, I realized that this was the first time I'd locked my door since my father had left. There was no final argument over "you're always away fighting one war or another," or "you never spend enough time with your son." The man whose face I barely recognized had simply left to go on tour as a patrol unit in the Skyllian Verge and never came back home. My routine was to wait til the second he closed the door behind him when he left for weeks or months at a time and lock myself in my bedroom and cry awhile. Mother had grown accustomed to my rhythm, finally giving me nearly an hour to myself. She knew I would come out eventually, that I just needed to get it out of my system.

This time was different. I was furious at her instead of him but for the same reason. They both were leaving me slowly and casually. It wasn't until several minutes later, still stewing on my bed, when a gentle rapping came from the opposite side of my door.

"I'm sorry."

My tear-stained eyes flew open, the utter defeat making my mother's voice almost unrecognizable. I was mad, but I hadn't meant to hurt her. But she had to know. I'd dealt with Father's death, all but buried a body, but I wasn't about to lose her. I tentatively turned the lock, cautious as her slight frame came into view. She bent low and wrapped me up in the tightest embrace her fragile arms could manage.

"Mom," I muttered after a long, strained silence. "You're gone a lot. I miss you. You have to know that. Are you not coming home on purpose?"

"Don't you dare think that," she whispered into my hair, feigning reprieval. She wasn't mad anymore, but this, the break in her steadfast, somehow hurt so much more. Pulling back, she squared my shoulders as she asked my permission to reveal her surprise. Begrudgingly, I complied.

We passed the ice cream cart on the way out. Mom asked if I wanted anything, but I just shook my head. She frowned, but didn't press the matter. I was in no mood for dessert, and had all but forgotten what a pop tasted like.

Instead of pushing the ground floor button on the elevator panel, she hit the one second from the top, the only one with a tiny star faceted on its surface. It wasn't smudged from overuse like the others, making the dull plastic almost glow. If my furrowed brow had its intended effect of voicing my confusion, my mother chose to ignore it either way. The traces of her slender laugh lines were barely noticeable, but grew more pronounced the higher we rose. We'd never gone that far up before. What was she doing?

Striding from the safely stopped platform, I slid into step behind my mother as she approached the stoop of the best apartment in the whole building. We were not supposed to be here, I was sure of it. I attempted to tug on her dress, but she slipped her hand in mine encouragingly. "It's okay," she grinned, swiping a passkey I'd never seen before over the lock interface.

The suite was beautiful, of that was no doubt. Spacious and strangely barren, the place was more than one class above our own abode. I immediately felt like we were trespassing.

"Over here."

Gratefully, I hurried back towards the exit only to come to a quick stop. Mother wasn't standing next to the doorway out, but next to another elevator on the entrance's right. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks as I cautiously approached, the concave doors whirling open to reveal another platform. This one had only two buttons, a set inside on the rear panel and one on the wall beside the opening. Up or down.

_This place has its own elevator._

"It's okay," she echoed, her hand gently guiding me inside the enclosed space. "Just take a peak and I'll be up shortly."

I'm sure I heard my own thick gulp as the doors swung back into place. She wanted me to go exploring a stranger's home, alone. What was she playing at?

But I'd already upset her enough today. My heart in my throat, my thumb found the console to take me to the next level.

"Welcome to the Penthouse Suite," a light, synthesized voice chirped. 'Nearly had a coronary' was more than just an exaggeration as I retreated to the center of the small space, eyes popping. "We ask that you please mind the railing along the roof's edge during your exclusive tour. The temperature is 25.6 degrees Celsius with clear skies and a light gust, optimal city-gazing conditions. Please enjoy your stay."

A roof? City-gazing? A personal VI for an elevator that only went to two floors?

The smooth rise of the platform had ceased without my being aware, and I started again at the whirl of the doors. Peering through the opening they created, I was dead sure of the gasp that escaped me.

_Grass._

A carpet of the waxy green spikes that had existed only in my memory for years covered the surface of the roof. There were even shrubs and bushes lining the sides, making the railing blend in decoratively. It rose and fell at gentle slopes in contour with the building's different heights. It wasn't hills, but the sight gave me butterflies all the same.

My foreboding forgotten, I strode out onto the lawn to take in the view. At this height, I rivaled some of the other skyscrapers and even dwarfed a few of the lesser buildings. But what struck me as most beautiful was the Defense Tower; it majestically rose far above the rest, making me tilt my head almost backwards to see its peak. A mountain among molehills, I'd never had a chance to appreciate its structure before now. I stared up, wondrous in the growing twilight, "city-gazing."

I jumped for the umpteenth time as Mother's arms wrapped around me. I'd been so transfixed I'd never heard her arrival.

"What do you think?" she teased.

I nodded slowly, indicating my obvious indulgence. "What are we doing here?"

"Well," she drawled, seemingly choosing her words careful. "All potential buyers have the option to take a tour."

Whipping around, I saw expectance shining in her eyes. The words poured out of her before I could question further. "It's why I've been working so much. I wanted to be able to afford this place, to give you this," she motioned, sweeping her hand at the roof's vegetation. "You used to love the fields nearby our old place. We had to move when your father got reassigned, and I needed to get a job to help with the bills, so we opted for the city."

Hesitation gave me pause to ask something that had been on the tip of my tongue since I'd stepped onto the roof. "You told me once that you had to look under the buildings for the grass."

A knowing smile warmed her anxious features. "I guess I forgot to mention that sometimes what you're looking for can sometimes be under your nose. But also right on top of it." Lovingly, I winced as she gave her usual tweak of my nose. "Everything you're looking for can be found one way or another, Caleb. Just sometimes not where you'd expect it."

"Even space?" I hoped out loud.

"Especially space."

Chewing that over, I sunk back against Mother's front, relaxing in the dip of her neck. "Tell me about our old home and I'll tell you why I like this apartment so much."

I heard the smile in her voice as she recited a beautiful tale of sprawling green hills and a tiny, blue-eyed boy who used to sit and stare at them for hours on end.


End file.
